Dystopia
by elemeno
Summary: Two oddly colored Pokemon find themselves trapped in the middle of a bloody war, and their strange pelts only make things harder for them. Neither of them ever wanted to be different, but when you are, you've got to stick together. Discontinued.


Instinct welled up inside from the depths of his inner mind to the control center, shocking him into a sudden consciousness he had never known before. A sudden, unexplainable urge to move and to escape from his confines rushed over him like a tidal wave, and he clawed urgently at nothingness, struggling to be the first out. The feeling of other bodies brushed past him. The sickening squishing noises that they made, the familiar touch of skin like his, the metallic taste in the "air" burning his tongue; all his senses burned like cold fire, all of them but his sight. Weak eyelids were glued shut, twitching anxiously to see what which no one has ever seen -- but despite his desperate need to see the world, his eyes remained closed; and until he was cleansed he would not see the sight of blood nor death, and he would remain free of sin until he finally opened his eyes.

Suddenly, the air was cold, and it stung at his skin like tiny needles being poked into him; what little fur he had on his bloodied body was bristling intensely from the new sensation. Previously collapsed lungs began to fill up with the icy air, chilling the rattata newborn to his bones as he squirmed around, helpless to do anything but succumb to the new, alien sensations. It was then that an aching, gnawing pain inside of him began to take root; a strange desire to fill his body overwhelmed him.

The rodent clawed his way forwards, drawing himself closer to the nearest source of heat that seemed to beckon the child forcibly. Bristly, rough fur contacted with the top of his head, and he whimpered with hunger as he searched for a place to feed; countless times he had collided with the wriggling bodies of his equally-starving siblings. But he found nowhere; no scent of milk, no odd patches of skin where fur should have been, nothing to tell his instincts what to do next. The rattata whined as the hunger began to sting at him painfully.

He nestled himself next to his mother, basking in her warmth, trying to hide from the nagging cold; but as quickly as he had gotten as comfortable as he could have been, the heat began to drift away, and the comforting vibration of a heartbeat in his mother's chest began to die down. An unfamiliar feeling of panic arose in his chest as a sticky fluid pooled around him, chilling him again. He whined pitifully as his caretaker began to struggle for air, her uneven breaths ringing painfully in the young Pokemon's ears. He had never experienced such agonizing sounds, never heard the high-pitched, pained squeals that were infesting his tiny ears. They were the first sounds he had ever really heard; they were the sounds of a dying mother.

--------------------

Harsh rays of sunlight burned into the raticate's watching, hollow eyes, changing his vision beyond repair; though perhaps that was his intention. Since the death of his mate and the birth of his kittens, the captain's sanity had slipped noticeably, and a gnawing feeling of loss had begun to eat at him from the inside out. For so long he had waited for the day for Mew to come and take him to Her Kingdom, so he could only be with the one who gave him support when he needed it; his mate.

He didn't quite understand his desires himself; it was just a burning need deep within the unseen depths of his soul, shouting desperate and unintelligible commands to his being. Depression had already taken control of half of him; and it seemed fitting, in a way, to let insanity take the other.

They told him that loss was just another human emotion designed to hold him back from his true potential; but no matter how he tried to believe them, how he tried to let go of his mate, he felt he couldn't simply move on without her. Their love had been beautiful, and to forget everything they had shared seemed, to him, more sinful than leaving his horde defenseless without him. And so he stood, dead eyes staring into the white heat of the sun; he was born blind and pure, and when he had opened his eyes he could only see pain -- but now, perhaps, as he hid behind a mask of growing insanity, dying blind could revert him back to that innocence that he had such a long time ago.

Swirling hues of color that he had never seen before danced in his vision as the world began to run together into a multicolored pool. His eyes burned with pain, begging to tear their empty gaze away from the sun; but the tortured creature wouldn't allow this pain to leave him, this delicious, physical pain -- the only kind that could let him be distracted from the mental suffering that had infected his brain long ago.

The colors began to die, fading away into nothing as blackness began to cloud his vision. This was it, this was the time when finally he would be blinded to the suffering he had seen; and then, as he would walk about aimlessly, death would greet him and bring him home.

For the first time in minutes, he blinked; color and light returned to his vision for a moment, but in less than a second, his eyes clouded as everything began to go hazy again, all hues fading to blacks and whites. Through his dying sight, he could see someone, something, watching him; a blurry mass of pink, with sad, cerulean eyes that sparkled with a God-like quality. Mixed emotions, ranging from delirious happiness to insecurity, sprung up inside the dying creature as a twisted smile formed on his face. His legs wobbled weakly and quickly gave way, and the raticate fell to the ground, labored breathing echoing painfully in the other Pokemon's ears as She watched, an expression of sorrow on Her face. Breathing was quickly becoming harder to do, and now, the only thing that kept him sucking air into his collapsing lungs was instinct. Finally, he thought to himself as he took a final breath into his shaking body, finally She was here, to take him home where he belonged.

"Come with me," She ordered, Her serene voice echoing slightly as She spoke. And suddenly, the other felt the weight of his body be taken from him as he followed Her obediently; the beautiful colors and bright lights sprung back to life in his eyes, the depression that cluttered and tainted his mind was now gone, and an amazing feeling of normalcy returned to him -- sanity. Oh, how wonderful it felt; how he had missed thinking clearly, how he had missed old memories that his mortal form had previously stolen away from him.

How silly he felt now; how silly of him it had been to do those things. But it didn't matter anymore; he was going to Her Kingdom, and he would be happy.

--------------------

"Murderer," came a quiet voice from a passing rattata, striking red eyes glaring at his younger kin, a scowl on his face. Before the other had a chance to reply, his brother had scampered away.

A familiar feeling of confusion clouded the young rodent's thoughts as a strange pain stabbed at his chest; why did they always call him that, why did they say those words that made strange salty water come to his eyes and made his chest ache? Something inside of him knew -- they were talking about Mother and Father, weren't they?

He was a rather sorry sight; normally bright, striking emerald eyes were dull and saddened and his yellow fur was matted and unkempt. Speaking of that, maybe it was his fur -- he was the only rattata in the horde with such a strange pelt and oddly-colored eyes -- maybe that was why they hated him so much, why they constantly mocked him and called him the runt of the litter. How he wished he had normal, purple fur and crimson eyes like the others! What he would _do_ to not be so different! The strange, salty tears sprung to his eyes again, clouding his vision as he restlessly kneaded the dirt with his claws.

No, that wasn't it, he decided. Being a different color didn't make him a murderer, surely? The only dead Pokemon that he had ever really known about were his mother and father; but he couldn't have killed them, he _loved_ them, even though he had never met them. He would never do such a thing to his own parents.

His tail curled and uncurled, a nervous habit of his, as he anxiously contemplated their insults. The rattata licked his buck tooth thoughtfully as a memory slowly came back to him; he had asked his brothers why they had tortured him so, and they had explained that since _he_ was the last one born, _he_ had killed her when he came out. Until now, the young rattata couldn't make any sense of their words, but he finally began to understand, and the tears were let loose from his eyes, staining his golden fur as they rolled down his cheeks. He was a murderer; how could he do such a thing to Mother? How could he be so evil?

_Bad, Rizaru, bad,_ he scolded himself silently, _You're a murderer. You're a freak. They were right, all of them. _Weak sobs ravaged his body as he fell to the ground, burying his face into the dirt, hiding away in shame. He had always been the runt, always the easy meal for the fearow, always the one being picked on; but he had decided that ultimately, he had deserved it all. A murderer deserves nothing less than to live a life of shame.

"Murderer."

The same voice broke through the silence, and the tiny rattata jerked his head up, his face wet and matted with dirt. Two of his brothers were standing before him -- which ones they were, he couldn't place -- and their glares pierced through Rizaru's shattered soul. His blood ran cold as he shrunk under their gazes, backing up quickly and trying to escape; he could only imagine what they were planning to do to him.

Before the runt had time to run, one of his kin sprang up and came tumbling down onto him, pinning him to the ground as he slashed at his younger brother's face; the other quickly did the same, launching at Rizaru's side and sinking his fangs into the tiny rattata's skin. An ear-piercing squeal of pain rang through the air as he was tortured by his kin; but he didn't fight back, because he deserved this.

...Right?

Confusion clouded his mind again -- maybe he didn't deserve this. He never killed anyone on purpose; was he just a scapegoat? Was he being taken advantage of, just because he was different than his siblings? His questions were left unanswered, and blood began to block his vision as his brother's claws were raked over his eyes, causing the younger to scream again, wriggling pitifully under the other's hold.

This was it, he finally decided, today was the day that he would fight back. He _didn't_ deserve this; so, with a scream of ferocity, he leapt up and dug his claws into his opponent's neck, throwing him to the ground and immediately leaping onto his other attacker. Pure, animalistic rage pumped through his veins while he sunk his teeth into his brother's neck, breaking through the skin and holding on tightly, ignoring the other's strangled gasps. The metallic taste of blood seeped into his mouth; to him, it tasted sweet -- it tasted like revenge.

With a final scratch across the nose, the rattata pulled his tooth out and advanced on his other brother, who was quickly regaining his composure and getting ready to launch himself again. But the thrill of the fight, the adrenaline that ran with his blood, made the yellow-furred rattata quicker and more agile, and he pounced, landing on his brother, attacking him the same way he had his other sibling. Extended claws raked across the purple rattata's face furiously. Only when he heard both his brethren choking helplessly on their own life fluids did he get off, drenched with blood and panting heavily, his chest heaving up and down. A glint of insanity flashed in his emerald eyes, and he took one last look at the dying rattata before turning to leave.

The fearow would take care of them, he concluded. With a satisfied smirk, he calmly walked away; he still had to prove himself to the others, and he was certainly feeling excited to do so.

--------------------

He took a quick breath of the oxygen-lacking air before poking his head out of the hole, scanning the area with cautious crimson eyes. After assuring himself that everything seemed safe, he finally pulled his entire body out of the narrow hole and settled himself into a sitting position on the grass, letting a strong but calm wind ruffle his reddish fur. The raticate frowned discontently when his eyes caught sight of a rattata dashing up to him, panting and struggling to stand as he spoke. "We managed to faint the arbok and relocate it, Captain Rizaru," the purple-furred rodent informed him, "but we did lose Qalihn in the process." Sorrow-filled red eyes narrowed, trying to escape the tears that threatened to come.

"A shame," the captain finally answered after a few moments, licking his furless paw casually, "In any case, tell the rest of the horde that it's safe to come out now. The danger is gone." The younger pokemon nodded quickly and ran off, poking his head into every hole in the warren to tell them all the good news, only to come back up each time with a confused look on his face. Rizaru watched him, silently amused by the innocent, baffled expression on his face when he found all the holes empty.

Finally, with a cry of excitement, the rattata dove into the hole, and the open fields above ground were once again empty. Sighing emotionlessly, Rizaru followed him to the hole he had jumped into.

His whiskers twitched as he slowly crawled in head-first, shaking off bits of dirt and stone that had fallen from the walls when he entered. A look of shock and worry crossed his face when the strong scent of blood wafted through his nostrils, and with a fierce and protective growl, he dashed madly forwards, determined to frighten away anything that dared to try and hurt his horde.

However, what he found was a bit of a shock; against the dirt wall of the den was a raticate, her chest heaving up and down as she breathed weakly and countless kits fed on her milk. His eyes traveled over them all; one, two, three... there were five. Five kittens! He smiled, walking calmly towards her.

"Congratulations, Piri," the captain began, "but one of our raticate having kittens isn't often the cause of a crowd gathering. What's the occasion?"

Without a word, she narrowed her eyes at a lone kitten, who was searching hungrily for a place to feed; however, something about the child seemed strange. His pale pink skin was covered in tiny blond hairs, unlike his siblings who were all sporting short purple pelts, and he seemed smaller than the others. A runt. A black sheep. Just like he, the respected and feared captain of the Korat horde, had been.

Just like he _was_.

"Those runts're no good," spoke one rattata from the crowd, "Just make more trouble for the rest of us. Plus, th'fearow spot 'em easier. I say we just leave it for dead."

"I... I must agree. I don't want to endanger my other kittens if this one will attract the predators straight to them." The new mother nodded her head weakly, gently pushing the golden-pelted child away from her with a clawed foot.

Rizaru's blood began to boil as the words struck him in the heart; abandon it, just because it was different like their captain was? He paused for a moment as he realized something -- after the "accidental" deaths of two of his brothers, he had left the horde to find a home where he would be accepted. His former home had assumed they had been gotten by the fearow; nothing could be changed. Once he had evolved, however, Rizaru returned looking stronger than ever, and was promoted to captain despite his family's suspicions. Perhaps... Perhaps the fact that he was a good captain was the only reason that they tolerated him.

"You understand, don't you?" the mother asked of the captain softly, "I just don't want my other kittens in danger. It's the right thing to do, don't you think?"

The oddly-colored raticate frowned grimly. "No, I don't understand. What I do understand, however, is that you will feed this rattata until it can feed on real food and hand it over for me to take care of. Your own blind hate will not be the cause of an innocent child's death." With a sinking heart, Captain Rizaru spun around and walked out, kicking up dirt as he did, anger gnawing at his heart.

Finally, he had found someone different like him. Someone like him.

Someone like _him_. A runt, like_ him_. A reject... like _him_. That was good, wasn't it? Of course it was.

Yet the thought made him feel so angry.

After all, how could Mew be so cruel as to make another monster like _him_?


End file.
